


Torture

by Lady_Hetusa



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mild torture, Some Humor, Some Plot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 00:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Hetusa/pseuds/Lady_Hetusa
Summary: Spock wakens knowing he will be confronted by his torturer and there will be hard decisions to be made. He must summon all his vulcan controls to survive the day ahead.





	Torture

Spock lay still, eyes closed and breathing kept light, in the hopes his state of awareness would not be noticed just yet. His naked body restrained for the time being. He could hear his tormentor moving around the room and wished to remain unnoticed for as long as possible.

He used these precious moments of peace to prepare his mental defenses against the events ahead, sure that they would be as tasking as any he had experienced in his life. Even Vulcan control could only take so much before it would weaken and crack.

“I know you’re awake” his tormentor said casually.

Opening his eyes Spock remained silent, locking gazes with the other, who had come to stand by his restrained feet. Recent experience indicated that he would need all his formidable resources for what was to come. 

“I thought today I’d give you the chance to decide for yourself, so…” the other held up his hands, each holding an item of torture “Left or right?”

Spock viewed the items, each one held its own threat and personal consequences for him. A decision as difficult as any he had been asked to make as both First Officer and Science Officer of the best ship in the Fleet.

“Oh come on, how hard can it be?” his tormentor said with a grin and devilish glint in his eyes. Weighing each item like a set of scales, offered for Spock’s choice.

“I am reviewing the consequences of each choice.” Spock responded quietly, hoping to take a few moments to delay the decision and the subsequent level of torture it would evoke.

“Aah, well I wouldn’t want to rush that process.” 

The tormentor looked at each of his own hands and their contents in turn, reviewing them with a critical eye. He enjoyed both items, each had their own special qualities and would evoke different results in the vulcan. Normally, he would make the decision himself. However, he was feeling generous today and would give his recumbent victim the final say in the method of their own torture.

“So?” he encouraged, raising each hand and its contents in turn. “Left or right?”

Spock raised his right eyebrow, clearly giving the impression he was unimpressed with the choices on offer. A decision could not be delayed much longer however, as his tormentor was beginning to lose the relaxed attitude and would soon make the decision himself. A decision which would thereby ensure Spock had even less defenses to withstand the day ahead. Making the choice himself at least allowed Spock to target specific defenses and focus his controls against one item alone.

“I choose the right.” He stated firmly.

The tormentor raised his right hand, head cocked to one side to review the chosen item it held. “You sure? Seems a bit harsh, knowing how it can affect you.”

“I am certain of my choice.” Spock reiterated firmly.

The tormentor casually threw the remaining item onto the unit behind them, turning back with the selected item in both hands. Holding its full length out towards Spock, where he could clearly see all its specific features.

“Good choice. Not one I choose very often but I always enjoy the sensations.”

Anything Spock said now would only reveal more than he wished, so he remained silent.

His tormentor obviously wanted a reaction and nudged one of Spocks restrained feet. “You have hidden depths Lt Commander Spock. Unfortunately, so few of your crew mates have realised this. Which is their sad loss and my gain.” A statement delivered with a chuckle.

“Kadith.”

“Aah yes, the good old Vulcan phrase ‘what is, is’.”

Spock could not withhold the small flinch the comments caused “A poor translation from the original.” 

“Language lessons this early in the day and this item here,” the tormentor offered it up to the Vulcan, “promises some sweet revenge.”

Spock could no longer withhold the reaction his tormentor was pressing for. He sighed, threw back the sheet which had restrained him, rose from their shared bed and moved to take the green wrap around shirt from Jim’s hands.

“Turn around.” He ordered gently.

As Jim did so, Spock held the fabric out and Jim slipped his arms into the sleeves, turning back around to face his beloved with a grin of success on his face. He knew what effect seeing him in this particular green wrap around shirt had on Spock. Although Jim knew his usual choice of gold had its own equally wonderful reaction on Spock, particularly if he neglected the black under shirt.

Spock arranged the overlapping folds of the green garment snugly around the chest which he had recently learnt the intimate joys of. Stroking fingers smoothed the cloth to the muscled contours, ensuring it fitted like a second skin. The design leaving a tantalising ‘v’ of exposed skin from the throat down to the delicious beginnings of chest muscles. Such sweet torture that Spock would now have to endure throughout the working day, knowing what lay beneath the fabric. The tunic also had a slight tendency to ride up and the occasional view of a strip of warm flesh above the black tight fitting trousers was tantalising. He could look but not touch, until shifts end!

Grasping the length of fabric that served as its fasting, Spock leant forward to pass it behind Jim. Taking the opportunity presented to place a kiss on the succulent lips offered up to him.

“Good morning, beloved.” Spock whispered into the curved ear nearest to him, noticing the curl of hair behind it was longer than usual and the short hairs of the sharp sideburns were in need of a trim. All observations he was now allowed to absorb with close held joy.

“’Morning, Spock.”

One hand slid under the green fabric just above Kirk’s hip bone, knuckles brushing the flesh and raising goose pumps on the warm skin of Jim’s side. Spock pressed the Enterprise insignia fastening closed and then moved to rest his arms loosely about Jim’s waist.

“You have risen earlier than normal.”

“Yeah. Having a breakfast meeting with Scotty to go over some engineering updates he conducted on the Jeffries tubes.”

Visions of Jim climbing into the tubes and the gentle exertion this would cause bought images flashing through Spocks thoughts. The mental images appeared of a light sheen of sweat that would appear on Jim’s exposed skin and the lock of fine hair which would fall onto Jim’s forehead. Spock became lost in imagining a small droplet of sweet sweat moving slowly down from the throat to the ‘v’ of material.

Such sweet torture.

Kirk placed his hands gently on either side of Spock’s face, drawing the wandering attention back to the here and now. The thoughts however had been clearly communicated and made Jim grin happily. He kissed the lips now slightly flushed and greener than usual.

“Keep that thought, beloved. I’ll see you on the bridge later.”

“As you command.”

Kirk moved out of the loose embrace and headed towards their cabin door and his scheduled meeting. Stepping out to meet the day, he was in a buoyant mood, knowing full well he would be under Spock’s very close observation for the effects that his ‘’little green shirt’ had. No doubt he would reap the rewards that evening, with any luck!

Spock turned to prepare for his own day, eyes catching the gold tunic which had been rejected, this time. It too had a powerful attraction and he brushed his fingers over it gently.

“Tomorrow, you will get your chance to grace him.” He muttered unselfconsciously. “But tonight, I shall enjoy unwrapping my sweet torturer and then we shall see who yields.”

He moved towards the shower and to dress in his own form of torture, deciding he would spend most of his bridge duty shift, standing. Bending over his monitors was sure to attract the attention of his own private torturer and raise the stakes that much higher. Who would have thought such sweet torture would be so enjoyable.


End file.
